


Under The Covers

by berlynn_wohl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-15
Updated: 2012-03-15
Packaged: 2017-11-01 23:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John would have liked to have the lights on and seen everything, but Sherlock was shy, so they did it this way, always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under The Covers

This is a fill for a [prompt on the kinkmeme](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/15638.html?thread=91005206#t91005206). Anon asked for “Sherlock and John. Having sex. With the lights off. Under the covers.”

 

 

 

A soft gasp broke the silence that had fallen over the darkened room. It was followed by a whisper from beneath the duvet: “Sorry, too deep?”

“No,” came the reply. “It’s fine. It was...good.”

“Here, I’m going to hold still. You take as much as you want.”

There was a change in the way the lump underneath the blankets was shifting. The crest of it was still, but around the edges it undulated with a slow rhythm. Little breathy noises echoed about the sparsely furnished room, until at last Sherlock said hesitantly, “Alright. You move now.”

“Your wish.”

Sherlock’s sighs and grunts of effort became sharper little sobs and groans now, as John started in with slow but driving thrusts, moving more deeply into Sherlock’s body. The feel of that solid shaft pushing patiently but inexorably into him sent prickles of pleasure all across Sherlock’s skin. It was very different to moving to take it himself. He wanted to look down and see where they were joined, but it was perfectly dark, so instead he had to imagine it.

For his part, John would have liked to have the lights on and seen everything, but Sherlock was shy, so they did it this way, always. If he’d known what Sherlock had been thinking just then, that he’d briefly entertained the idea of looking at what they were doing, John would have been keenly but carefully encouraging. Perhaps Sherlock would mention it the next time.

John’s slow thrusts were pushing Sherlock further up the bed. John paused and, putting his weight on one forearm, adjusted the pillow with the other hand, so that if Sherlock got too close to the headboard, he’d have a cushion.

Then, to be playful, John dipped his head and planted a series of rapid, wet, smacking kisses underneath Sherlock’s chin. It wasn’t painful, but it tickled in an unpleasant way, and Sherlock scrunched up, trying to touch his shoulder to his jaw to prevent John from continuing. The first noises he made were squeals, which pleased John, so to get him off Sherlock had to shout “Stop it!”

“I’m sorry,” John said, sounding quite pleased with himself and not sorry at all.

“Why do you do that when you know I don’t care for it?”

“I like how it makes you squirm. And I like the noises you make.”

“You could just _ask_ me to move that way, and make those noises.”

John shook his head at the way Sherlock had completely missed the point.

In a moment of stillness, Sherlock groaned and shifted one leg, lifting his heel from where it rested on the small of John’s back.

“Are your legs getting tired?” John asked. “We can switch.”

“No, I’m getting a cramp.”

“Well, put your leg down, it’s alright. I can stay inside you.”

Sherlock lowered both legs and straightened them out. He kept them spread far enough that John did not need to disengage, though the angle meant that for now he could only keep the tip in.

They remained this way for two quiet minutes, during which time John said nice things about Sherlock’s body and how good it made him feel, and listed a few examples of things Sherlock had done in the last few days that made John wish he could have taken him to bed right then, had they the opportunity. These compliments made Sherlock forget the pain in his _adductor longus_ , and he lifted his legs and invited John to delve more deeply into him again.

John’s thrusts were just a bit quicker now. Sherlock reveled in it, tilting his hips to entice John further. His hands fell to his sides, and for several strokes he braced himself lightly like that, lying still and accepting pleasure. Then, as if he’d just remembered something, he self-consciously wrapped his arms around John again and hurriedly caressed his back. John chuckled. “It’s alright. Don’t feel like you have to always be doing things in return. I’m fine, so just enjoy yourself.” So Sherlock held his hands still, though he maintained a firm grip, just at the rise of John’s buttocks.

“I like when you put your hands on me there, though,” John confessed. “Pulling me in. It makes me feel like you really want me inside you.”

The bashful, clicking swallow that Sherlock made communicated well enough to John that that was indeed what Sherlock wanted. John kissed his open mouth like he wanted to taste each part of it separately: first his lower lip, then the upper, then each corner of his mouth.

Something rubbed Sherlock deliciously deep inside, and an undignified little moan was out of his mouth before he could think to stifle it.

John smiled and whispered just under Sherlock’s ear. “Is that your sweet spot, my love?”

Sherlock nodded. John couldn’t see much, but he recognized the shifting against his cheek. “Here, I’ll try to touch it again,” he said, and retreated, just half an inch, before pushing once more. He was rewarded with a sharp “Oh!”

Employing short thrusts deep inside, he managed to strike Sherlock’s prostate about two times out of three. Soon, Sherlock was no longer satisfied to have his cock caressed only by the skin of John’s belly, and reached between their bodies to pleasure himself.

The blanket-covered lump on the bed was shaking now, and occasionally the headboard tapped against the wall. Like a brewing storm, minutes went by with no noise, just harsh, stuttering breaths and a few whispered encouragements:

“It’s alright, take your time. Just feel what I’m doing and let go. I’ve got you. Go ahead and...yes, oh, _there_ you are, _shhh_...” John continued to make soothing sounds, though they were drowned out by the racket Sherlock was making, which could have been interpreted as noises of distress by someone who didn’t know any better.

Just as Sherlock’s wild noises quieted, John’s hips shuddered and he gave a deep, heartfelt groan. He held very still as he ejaculated, so that Sherlock could feel the twitches and the gush of warmth inside him. He felt little surges all the way down his thighs and in his belly. “Jesus,” he gasped. He had no objection to boring, lights-off-and-under-the-covers lovemaking just then.

An arm emerged from beneath the blankets for long enough to pluck two tissues from the box on the bedside table, before disappearing again. Next, just a hand emerged, which launched the wadded-up tissues to a spot on the floor where they would be taken care of later. For now, John needed to soothe a trembling Sherlock: “Shh, my love. It’s alright, it’s fine, you couldn’t help it. I’m sure Mrs Hudson couldn’t even hear you anyway.”

The air under the blankets had become tropical, and they were damp with sweat where they were joined. Both of them felt a little bereft pang as Sherlock’s body pushed John’s soft prick out, but they compensated by wrapping each other in a tangle of lean limbs. A few minutes from now they would likely be throwing the covers off and gasping for breaths of cool air...but that would be a few minutes from now.

 


End file.
